“The patient has shown no previous signs of mental illnesses,” said the doctor as he flipped through Zy's medical record. “So the question is, what could have happened to leave a child in THIS state?”

The doctor turned his eyestalks towards young Zy, the sole survivor of the destruction of a refugee ship that was headed towards Sol IV. While in the orbit of Kylon III, the ship was destroyed. That is all that is known about the incident. 

Zy was the only one who could fill in the missing details of what happened, but he wasn't talking. He just sat on the chair in the doctor's office, surrounded by medi-bots, his eyes blankly staring into space. His little hands trembled, his pale white cheeks were wet with tears long since shed, his blue hair muddied, his clothing singed.

“I need you to speak, child,” said the doctor as he lowered his eyestalks towards Zy. “What happened?”

Zy closed his eyes, still whimpering, still struggling to make sense of what happened. He was bouncing his favorite ball around the ship when it bounced off to an escape pod. He got in to grab the ball, but the pod activated itself and launched towards the surface of Kylon III. As he screamed for his mother to help him, he helplessly watched as what looked like a stream of sun fire overwhelmed the ship. There were no survivors...

“The child seems unable to communicate,” said the doctor as he shook his head. He headed to his computer terminal to grant Zy a stay in the mental hospital. “He is beyond medicine; he needs professional care...”

That was ten years ago...

“Hey, Uncle,” said Zy as he and his uncle sat together on one of the many garden benches available to Xeylan III's best mental hospital. Zy’s uncle stretched out his purple wings stretching them to their full width before furling them behind him. Zelians were known for their wings of blues, violets and pinks. The rarer reds and golds joined the hue in Zy’s generation signing a change in pigmentation due to the extrasolar rays of the moving sun that hadn’t been seen in a few days.

 Zy was now a strapping young man, one who had almost conquered his mental trauma. “How's life?”

“Can't complain,” Zy's uncle said with a shrug. “What about you; still getting the nightmare?”

“Haven't had it in a week,” Zy said with a weak smile. “In fact, last night, I didn't dream at all; I'm getting better.”

“Good,” his uncle said with a weak smile. “I talked to your caretakers; they said you can be released if this pattern goes on for a month!”

“So just another sixty days?” Zy asked, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. He ran a hand through his blue hair, his pink eyes shimmering with hope. “I can't wait...”

“Me either,” said his uncle as they shared a hug. The two then leaned back on the bench to watch the discus-shaped clouds fly by...

The next day...

 “So if you did not have the nightmare again, could you explain why your heartbeat was so accelerated at 0100 hours?” asked the director of the mental health board as he looked over Zy's medical analysis. “Your brainwaves were also highly active during this time; care to explain that?”

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Zy had no answer; he merely whimpered. The nightmare had been jumbled as always but the voice had stood out. It always stood out. Creepy and old with age. Young and virile it was everything at once, a conglomerate of voices, that couldn’t be discerned from the next. It frightened him.

“At this rate, I cannot in good conscience grant you leave,” said the director as he turned off the datapad with Zy's analysis. “You are to remain hospitalized until further notice.”

“Please, let me go,” Zy whimpered. “I'm getting better, I swear.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. He was lifted off the chair, escorted out of the office, and locked in his padded room. The green sunset and Zy laid his head on the floor. He closed his eyes.

“I shall return,” growled the voice in his head. “The Empire shall fall. Blood will spill. My return is decided. Be my herald.”

“You're not real,” whimpered Zy as he curled into a ball. “I'm not hearing you.”

“Zyros Niall,” growled the voice. “I spared your life for a reason. Fulfill the purpose I have given you.”

“You aren't real!” Zy cried out, his eyes puffy, his cheeks wet. He jolted up, looking around his room. It was dark and the shadows played tricks on his eyes. The door suddenly swung open. In walked a man with long, white hair, milky white skin, pointed ears, emerald green eyes, and dressed in regal clothing. He was flanked by four heavily armed men and the mental health director.

“Is this the one?” Asked the regal man, his voice deep and commanding.

“Yes, Your Highness,” said the director, his voice trembling. “The sole survivor of the Nova Roda.”

“Then he's coming with me,” said the regal man. He turned towards Zy. “Zyros Niall, We’re getting you out of here.”

“Thank you!!!” Zy happily cried out as he threw himself at the man's feet. “Thank you, good sir!”

“Up off the floor,” the man commanded. “You will serve Us.”

Zy happily followed the man towards his ship. The two sat together alone in the regal man's quarters. While he didn’t have many trinkets he had a lavish room done with the finest things in the Galaxy. Zy was sure a few things were either very old antiques or illegally bought items on the black Galactic stream. They sat by a large window that showed Kylon II’s moon.

“Allow Us to introduce Ourself,” said the regal man as he gave a slight bow. “We are Prince Lithelios Handrigh of House Galaxys, crown prince and heir to the Empire. Let Us waste no words; We are in need of you.”

A maid droid walked by and served them beverages. Zy happily drank the juice Prince Lithelios' maid had given him.

“We know you were the sole survivor of the Nova Roda,” Prince Lithelios said as he commanded his maid to put his drink in his hand. “What, may We ask, caused its destruction?”

Zy's eyes widened. He gulped, put down his drink, and recited the line he had been told since childhood.

“A terrorist attack,” he mumbled.

“Yes, that was the lie,” Prince Lithelios chuckled. “Now the truth, please. We give Our word, what is discussed here shan't leave this meeting room.”

Zy took a deep breath. “I saw... a bird, made of fire, fly across the voids of space. That's what destroyed the Nova Roda.”

Prince Lithelios nodded.

“This bird,” the prince began as he took a small sip of his drink. “Describe it to the best of your ability.”

“I...” Zy began, only to clutch his head and wince.

“His heart is dark,” growled the voice. “Lead him to me.”

“What troubles you?” Asked the prince as he signaled his maid to take his drink away.

“The voice,” whimpered Zy. “It never leaves me alone.”

“I see,” Lithelios nodded. He got up and sent Zy toward the guest room. Once he was alone, the prince grinned...

If what the Dao showed him was true, then he needed the brat to know the enemy of the Empire, but he wasn’t so naive to simply trust what the Dao showed, as it showed many things. They were Ellios of action, making the desirable future play out for them. He stalked to a window and glanced at the vastness of space.

“Soon,” he muttered.

Very soon.